


Grand Central Station

by theyseemerollins



Category: World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: Crack, F/M, Fluff, Just me being garbage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-03
Updated: 2018-01-03
Packaged: 2019-02-27 15:13:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,963
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13250898
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theyseemerollins/pseuds/theyseemerollins
Summary: You hadn't wanted to host your friend's sex toy party.  But here you are.  You hadn't wanted the guys to come home early.  But here they are.Set in the Storm Chaser universe but you don't need to read those to get it.  Seth/Reader established.





	Grand Central Station

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MammothAmaryllis](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MammothAmaryllis/gifts).



> This stems from my story Twister and the brief mention of Shield parading around your sex toy party. And MammothAmaryllis being a pushy jerk. But I thank her all the same for contributing to this mess.

“Tell me again why I agreed to this?”

“Because you’re a push-over.” 

Your friend snickered as you shoved her shoulder. You finished putting various snacks out on a tray, and continued fiddling with the napkins.

“They’re sorted,” she said loudly, taking them from you. “Chill out, it’s just for fun. You don’t have to buy anything. Unless you want.”

You rolled your eyes at her as she traipsed out of the kitchen and into the living room where the other girls were gathered. You stared down at the cheese tray in front of you, seriously considering if purposefully choking yourself on a Ritz cracker would be very hostess-worthy of you.

_You’re not the hostess. She is. You’re just…lending out your living room. You’re not responsible for whatever may happen…_

You glared and smushed a cracker. _Chicken shit._  
You’d said yes to this get together without giving it much thought. You had been feeling pretty bold that night, with a couple shots in your system, so agreeing to hosting your gal pals as your bestie talked you all into buying the latest bedroom toys had seemed like a brilliant idea. Whiskey was the smoothest talker you ever met, after all.

And now you thought maybe you’d need some more. Whiskey, that was. You sighed and tore your eyes away from the liquor cabinet, answering your friend’s beckoning shriek.

Everyone else looked positively gleeful with anticipation. None of them seemed to share your embarrassment. Everyone was laughing as they previewed the catalogues and sipped their wine. You took a deep breath and calmed yourself. This was girls’ night. Time to be fun and loose without any pressures. No one here was going to judge anyone else; not when you’d all be looking at the same naughty things. You nodded to yourself as you crossed the room and took a seat on one of the barstools near the back of room. The most that would come from tonight would be some tipsy shrieking and laughter. That actually sounded pretty good. You threw back the contents of your wine glass, and caught the eye of your best friend. She grinned at you and nodded in approval.

She stood and cleared her throat. 

“Hey girls, we’re just about ready to get started with this thing, but I just wanted to say thanks again to my pal over there for opening up her living room to us. It took some persuasion…”

Here she mimicked throwing back shots, which garnered laughs and applause. “…but she finally agreed to let me take advantage of her awesome house for what I would certainly call a good cause.”

More laughter and whistling met the end of her speech, and you just shook your head. You were unable to hold back a smile, however. She knew how to charm. You were going to try your damnedest to refrain from buying a single…thing.

“Okay, so we’ll start of nice and simple, ladies. Dildos.”

“Whoa, innocent ears in the room!” 

All heads whipped around to the front door and the squealing began in earnest.

You were going to die. No, you were going to commit some murders, and then you were going to die. They were supposed to be gone all day. _They said they had training and meetings and they said they WERE GOING TO BE GONE ALL DAY._

The sirens in your head screamed on as you watched the guys file into the room. Dean was grinning, and you had enough awareness left to think to yourself, innocent ears my ass, before your eyes locked with Seth’s and you were dying a thousand more nuclear deaths.

He was in a tank top and sweatpants, and he had that post-workout look to him. Slightly flushed, still, hair swept up in a sloppy bun. He had been sweating. Your mouth went dry as your eyes narrowed. He assessed you as he skirted around the group of women laughing at Dean, looking a bit sheepish, but more…mischievous than he had any right to. You gulped and tore your attention away from him, giving yourself a mental slap. _Get the fox out of the henhouse._

Dean was already making himself comfortable among your friends, he too clad in a tank top and sweats. He leaned back in the couch, arms up over the back, legs splayed a bit. The women were appreciating the show. You huffed in frustration. You didn’t think badly of him—he’d never seriously pursue any of them with any intentions that weren’t genuine—but it was the principle of the matter. The guys had given you their solemn vows that they’d be gone all day. You hadn’t been able to tell them the real reason you needed them gone, settling on a weak explanation that your friend just needed girl time.

“I like this ‘girl time’ business, tootz,” Dean winked at you from his seat on the couch, reading your mind.

The other women giggled, and you ground your teeth together. You looked away from him to where Roman leaned against a wall. Finally, one of them looked appropriately chastened. He saw you looking at him and grimaced in way of apology. 

“Why are you here,” you mouthed angrily, waving your arm subtly in the direction of the party. He put his hands up, plaintively, mouthing right back, “I couldn’t distract them anymore.”

You rolled your eyes and made a “get them out of here” sign with your hands. Roman threw a glance at the ceiling, muttering something under his breath. But when he made to move toward Dean, the seated man stood abruptly, and Roman halted.

You watched in stunned silence as Dean took one of the dildos off the table and held it in the air in front of him, cupping his free hand beneath it like goddamned Vanna White.

“This here is from our spring collection. It is green, which cannot be healthy, approximately eight inches, pretty generous, and ribbed for your pleasure. I’ll start the bidding at ten dollars.”

The ladies were in love, you could tell. Wholehearted bidding broke out, and even your so-called best friend was into it. You, on the other hand, were definitely murdering people tonight.

“This isn’t a _fucking_ auction, Dean,” you yelled across the room.

Everyone sobered and Dean looked at you, and then down at the merchandise on the coffee table, which included but was not limited to dildos, handcuffs, beads, and even a small paddle. He looked back at you. “Could’ve fooled me.”

Your friends roared with mirth, and your blush went full body. You slumped in your seat, back against the bar. You looked helplessly to Roman, and got no aid from that quarter. He was covering his mouth and chuckling silently to himself.

You were too afraid to look at Seth. From your peripherals, you could tell he hadn’t moved from where he had been standing. You couldn’t look at him. You couldn’t. Your relationship was too private for this sort of—debauchery. But your eyes started to slip over, curiosity at his reaction overriding your own uncertainty…

“Next up, we’ve got this nice set of handcuffs for all you kinky hussies.” Dean dangled rose-gold cuffs off his finger, swinging them around and around as he leered indecently at his captivated audience. You almost rolled your eyes again, but then he stopped swinging them and gripped one side in each hand and gave a hearty yank on the chain. “Nice and sturdy for those of you who are rougher during playtime.”

There was a collective intake of breath from the group, and at this point you couldn’t really blame them. Dean’s rugged personality and appearance were going to do wonders for sales on the cuffs. They did look pretty damn solid, if you were being honest… 

“How bout you, tootsie,” he smirked. “I see you eyeing these real good.”

You opened your mouth in one part offense, one part dazed confusion, attention still on the cuffs in his hands. 

“Don’t worry, babe, I already got a pair.”

You turned your incredulous expression on Seth, who still hadn’t moved from his spot except to lean against the wall with his arms crossed. You felt all the other eyes in the room move, too. And then he had the nerve to shrug and add, “What? You keep tearing the scarves.”

A low wolf-whistle came from the center of the room, and not from Dean. The girls hooted at you and you covered your face with your hands, elbows on your thighs.

Dean was in the process of moving onto another item—god knew which—when Roman stepped forward. “Alright, Dean, cut it out. Let them be.”

The group groaned ensemble, and Dean nodded his head. “I know, girls, I know. I’m sorry. But Ro said to back off, so I gotta go. Buy some fun stuff.” He winked at them and made his way over to the kitchen. You heard the fridge door pulled open and he started to whistle.

Relief coursed through you as the women gathered themselves together. Maybe the guys would just go upstairs now and you could get back to this party and get the girls out. Just another hour at the most, you were sure.

Your friend was in control once more, and expounding on the glorious benefits of a particular type of lube. You were certain you were just having some kind of seizure at this rate. The blush was permanent. You shifted awkwardly on your stool. You couldn’t look at these toys. Not while three attractive men milled around. Why couldn’t they just take the hint and leave? Your eyes went back to darting around the room, never landing anywhere for more than a second. That strategy worked for a little while.

Eventually, though probably not accidentally, your roaming gaze found Roman’s again. He gave you a small smile, one you assumed was meant to comfort. But of course you just felt mortification blow through you. One of his expressive brows ticked up. Your cheeks flushed, and a gleam that was usually found in Dean’s leers lit his eyes. You tore your gaze away and tried to ignore him, wondering what the hell had suddenly come over him. But from the corner of your eye, you saw he was already moving toward you. No, more like stalking toward you like some kind of damn panther.

When he stepped up behind you and pitched his voice so only you could hear, your stomach flipped.

“What’s wrong, baby girl?”

Normally such a question in his deep rumble would have you spilling your guts in relief that someone genuinely cared about your nervousness. But his tone was utter insinuation, his mouth right next to your ear, his large frame looming behind you radiating warmth. You nearly turned around and snapped at him. Of all the times for _Roman_ to get into the teasing spirit.

You were halted from your preemptory movement, though. Dean was suddenly there, leaning over your other shoulder. Where had that hellion come from? Hadn’t he been raiding the fridge? Before you could even dread what he was going to do, he was murmuring in your ear:

“Yeah, Tootzie Pop, what’samatter?”

Your whole body clenched at the way his sing-song voice drawled the last word, but of course Dean “Goad Everybody To Their Limits” Ambrose wasn’t finished.

“The way you’re shakin’ makes me think it wouldn’t take that many licks to get to the center of ya.” 

Your stomach dropped out of your body. He chuckled low in your ear, like the bastard knew exactly what he had just done to your insides. The added snap of his tongue as he sucked on his teeth had you physically flinching. Vaguely, you heard Seth’s strangled cough to your left, as if he were trying his hardest not to break into raucous laughter. You wanted to smack both him and Dean, but you couldn’t move, frozen by images flashing in your head.

At least Roman had the decency to mutter a chiding, “Jesus, Dean,” though you could hear a bit of amusement in his voice.

You were about to retort, your mind finally thawing out enough to react, when Seth, with a smug grin in his tone, stepped in front of you. You kept your eyes on a random point beyond him as he effectively trapped you between the three of them, and murmured, “I’ve already counted. You’re not wrong.”

It wasn’t so much the words that sent you into a blind rage, but the accompanying grating laugh from your asshole boyfriend that finally had you snapping. Your arm shot out and smacked your fist low in his gut. His laugh cut off with a pained grunt. The swing unbalanced you, and if not for Roman’s arm wrapping around your waist, you would have ended up sprawled on the floor. Just like the stool that clattered out from under you.

Dean was cackling, tears leaking out his eyes. Seth was doubled over in pain, hissing as he tried to breathe. Roman was whispering soothing words in your ear, cradling your back to his chest. It took you a moment to realize you had been yelling, as Roman’s calming rumble broke through your anger.

“It’s alright, baby girl.” No innuendo this time, thank god. “We’re sorry.” His voice took on a harsher tone as his focus shifted to the two assholes in front of you. “Right?”

Though posed as a question, both men knew it was a demand. They nodded silently. Yet, Dean’s face betrayed his glee as he straightened into a faux military stance. Seth’s face just looked pained, as if maybe your blind strike had landed a little further south than you’d intended. 

The loud clearing of your friend’s throat brought mortification roaring back. Everyone was staring at you. 

Slowly, face still on fire, you shrugged Roman’s arm off of you and stepped around Seth. The women were watching you with mixed expressions; some grinning, some wary. You straightened your spine and glanced back at Seth. Turning to your friend, you calmly asked, “Got any ball gags?” 

That got a louder reaction than anything Dean had said all day.

 

You had the living room to yourself later that evening, the irony not lost on you, and you flippantly whipped the page in front of you over. Your friends had stayed for another forty-five, uninterrupted minutes, laughing and chatting and buying things. The guys had tucked their tails and retreated upstairs, leaving you all to your devices. 

In the end you hadn’t purchased anything. You were still too embarrassed by it all to actually fork out money. Your friend had understood—perhaps better than you knew, because she left a catalogue conveniently behind.

You flipped through it now, feeling much braver for being alone. Some of the things inside were actually sort of interesting, and there was even some lingerie. You’d be happy buying some of that. But you were still mad at your idiot boyfriend, so you weren’t feeling all that charitable.

You turned the pages a few more times when something caught your eye. You were intent upon the pictures and description—the word _supple_ lighting you up like a sparkler—when Seth sat down beside you. You threw the catalogue over the table and it slid under the opposite chair. Clearing your throat, you looked at him.

“I’m sorry for embarrassing you today,” he said mournfully. He looked so worried that your hostility began to simmer down, but you let him continue. “I didn’t mean to make you feel uncomfortable.”

You chewed your lip while you watched him. “It’s not so much the discomfort,” you say slowly, measuring your words. “It’s just—I guess I’m more private than I thought. I can talk a lot of talk about stuff like this, but once you actually came home and everyone could see us together, it got a bit real.”

Seth nodded. “I get it. And I’m sorry.” He put his hand on your thigh, palm up. You gave him yours, and your fingers twined together. A cocky grin started forming on his lips as you looked at each other. “I do like teasing you, though. Guess I got a thing for blushes.”

You scowled. “I was about to apologize for hitting you, but now I’m not sure I want to.”

Seth laughed. “It’s okay, you have plenty of time. I’m sure I’ll be apologizing for this for a while.”

You laughed and snuggled up against him, putting your head on his shoulder. “Yeah, you will be.”

 

A week or so later you returned home from work and trudged up the stairs to your room, exhausted and done with the day. The guys were out, if the peace was any indication, and to be honest, you weren’t mad. There was a bubble bath and quiet music in your immediate future and nothing had ever sounded so good…

You nearly leapt out of your skin when you opened your door and Seth was there, lounged across your bed, hands behind his head. “Holy shit you scared me,” you laughed as you shut the door and dropped your bag on the floor. “I didn’t know you were home. Today has been a nightmare,” you babbled while you crossed to the dresser opposite the bed. You smiled at him in the mirror while you brushed your hair. “Honestly. I wanted to scream about ten different times today—”

“Sweetheart, shh.”

You frowned as he cut you off. You turned around to face him, mouth going dry as he sat up and crooked a finger at you. His hands were encased in the black leather gloves you had been fixated on in that catalogue. Soft, sleek, and _supple._


End file.
